


Misunderstandings

by AllINeedIsALittleFelix



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllINeedIsALittleFelix/pseuds/AllINeedIsALittleFelix
Summary: Starts from Reichenbach fall. Johnlock. Will adhere to all BBC events of Sherlock. TJLC.





	1. Chapter 1

Bart's Hospital. 2012.

My mind is whirring with all the things that had happened the past twenty-four hours. In twenty-four hours, we turned from detective and blogger to fraud and criminal. That wasn't the worst part. I knew Moriarty wouldn't rest until he destroyed Sherlock, until he burns the heart out of Sherlock. And he has. He had destroyed everything what Sherlock most held dear, his work. And now, it is only a matter of time till he tries to kill…no, I would never, never ever let that happen. We wait, for Moriarty's next move.

_Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty._

No. No way. There was no way Sherlock would have ever done that. There are many things I don't understand about Sherlock, but him faking crimes? Sherlock Holmes was a man of many things, but not a fraud. Never a fraud. He was too good a person. He pushed people away because all they ever did was hurt him. Not many people like to admit there's a smarter, better person than them. But, I knew better. There's a reason why he wanted to be a detective. He liked to help people, despite what Mycroft said. I saw his face and for the first and the last time, I saw him looking confused, not able to comprehend what was going to happen next. I knew why. This time he couldn't use logic. He didn't know if I was going to believe him or Moriarty. Logic didn't apply on emotions and beliefs. Oh, Sherlock, how I longed to hold you and tell you this "No matter what Moriarty does, no matter what he cooks up next, even if the entire world believes it, I'll always stay true to you, Sherlock Holmes. Because, I believe in Sherlock Holmes"

_Do you know what Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you…and you repel me_

My heart breaks, looking at the desperate reporter. If that article came out, this would how people would talk to Sherlock. We had to make this right.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I'm rushing against time. To stop. Ready to kill. Ready to die for the man I loved. My heart is pounding, knowing that I've left Sherlock when he needed me the most. I should have known that the phone call was a fake. There was a reason why Sherlock didn't get worked up on it. I rush to Bart's praying that he's still alive. My phone rings.

_John._

I'm relieved beyond measure. I say a small thank you to the world.

_Just do as I ask. Please._

There was something wrong. Something very wrong with Sherlock's voice. He sounded vulnerable, for the first time, he sounded human, when I didn't need him to!

_An apology. It's all true._

What? Why? What? Sherlock, what happened? Why are you doing this? Why are you lying to me? We both know that's not true.

_It's a trick. Just a magic trick._

My blood is boiling right now. I'm angry at Sherlock. Angry at him for giving in. Angry at him for even thinking that I would believe what he was saying. Angry that, clever as he was, he never would realize…that I loved him.

_If you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?_

_Goodbye John._

I realized what he was going to do. I yell like an animal. But too late, he has already jumped. The world goes blank to me. I can no longer see, no longer hear, no longer feel. My mind is frizzled right now. I cannot comprehend anything. Sherlock…gone? How? It was impossible. I was ready to take a bullet for him, but now? There was no way Sherlock…no, he might still be alive. The thought kick-starts my brain and I rush towards Sherlock.

I see his body, a crumpled mess of what is my world. The blood is everywhere and I rush to check his pulse. I wait. No pulse. I wait. Still no pulse. I'm ready to hold his hand until his heart beats again or mine stops. I wait. I wait until they pull me away from my one true love. I can't leave him. I can't. My entire world has collapsed. Both my legs hurt this time but I hardly feel the pain. I feel numb, there's only one thought in my head: How do I get Sherlock back?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

_There's stuff that you wanted to say….but didn't say it._

Ella was wrong about many things about me. But this time, her words hit home. Of course, there was stuff I wanted to say. How I secretly like his hair, how I liked making him behave and he sulked like a cute kid, how I loved his unpredictability. How I loved fighting alongside him. His deductions would never stop surprising me. I loved him for trying to stay away from drugs. Just for me. And of course, the main thing: That I loved him and cared about him.

_It really bothers you? What people say. About me. I don't understand. Why would it upset you?_

He gave me thousands of chances to tell him that I loved him. The coward I was, I never did tell him. The society, my parents..how stupid it all seems now. I love you, Sherlock Holmes, I love you with all my heart. You've brought a broken shell of a man back to life. I was a crumpled mess, a mess no one wanted. You've resuscitated me. And, of course, I still believe in you. Always have, always will. I love you, Sherlock William Scott Holmes. Will you do me the honor of being my husband after death?"

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I wake up and there's darkness all around. I smell alcohol. Of course, I am in a hospital. Mrs. Hudson must have found me. I try to get up, but can't. They've tied me down. The lights flick on. And, in front of me, I see Sherlock. Standing. Looking at me. He looked like he hadn't slept for weeks. Sherlock's alive? My heart monitor beeps like crazy. I try talking but I have an oxygen mask on my mouth.

"I've read it John. The Reichenbach Fall, you called it?" he says, in his low baritone. My heart skips a beat and he could see that on the monitor. Here I was in a hospital, feeling like rubbish and the man I loved is going to tell me he could never love me that way.

He continues:

"I don't have a lot of time and I've a lot of apologies to make. First, I'm sorry. I had to do what I had to do. Second, I am sorry for this. Sorry, for putting you through all this. Please don't. Despite what you think John, I love you. I always have and always will. Please don't do this to yourself. Please wait. Three more years. Just three more years. I promise you, John, I swear it upon my love for you, I will come back. I will come back. Please wait"

He loved me? Sherlock Married-to-my-work Holmes loves me? Oh, Sherlock, I'll wait for you for a thousand years if you wanted me to.

"And, John? I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could have the misfortune to meet. But, you've changed that John. Changed me. You've taught me to hope. Hope that I will be loved by someone for pure and unselfish reasons. Hope that I'll always have someone by me when I need them the most. You've made me the man I am today. You've saved me so many times and in so many ways that you'll never even comprehend. It's been one hell of a ride John, of mystery, murder and mayhem. And I look forward to doing that after the next three years"

"So, John", he says kneeling in front of me, "Would you do me the honor of marrying me after three years?". His beautiful eyes burn with love. He looked a mess, bloodied cloak and blood matted to his hair. But, he never looked more beautiful to me.

I nod. My eyes are filled with tears. I'm just happy he's still alive. Happy that I did say all those things which I regretted not saying. Sherlock pulls out a plain platinum ring out of his coat and slips it on my finger. It looked beautiful. It feels wonderful. Precious, just like Sherlock. Cold, just like Sherlock felt like in the beginning, but John's warmth would soon warm the ring. However, I couldn't see the ring on my fingers which I longed to because my head was also tied down. However, I looked at Sherlock, trying to memorize him. I imprint this memory in my head forever. He kisses my palm. He kisses my forehead. And, then, he's moving away. I start moving, trying to get out of my bed. He whispers in my ear,

"Sleep, now. You need the rest" and he increases my morphine.

My eyes close against my will and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"John dear, you need to wake up now. John"

I hear Mrs. Hudson's voice cutting through my sleep. I wake up with a jolt, remembering the events of yesterday. I still have the oxygen mask, but I try to show her my tied hands. She seemed surprised with my jovial mood and I don't blame her.

"John, I'm glad you are feeling better now, my dear. You know, I love Sherlock too. But, we can't bring back the dead John. We can only join them" she said. "But only, at the right time" she added, sternly, removing my oxygen mask.

"Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock's not dead! He just proposed to me the previous night. Look at my hand!"

She looked at my hand but then her face becomes sadder than ever.

"John" she said in a low voice. "There is no ring. Are you alright, dear?"

I try to feel my fingers and yes, Mrs. Hudson was right. There was no ring.


	2. Chapter 2

No ring. I wriggle my fingers, trying to feel the cold metal, but no, the ring was gone. Gone. I violently struggle to free myself from the ropes and yelling

"Mrs. Hudson. Untie me at once! I swear I will not kill myself!"

Mrs. Hudson helps me untie my ropes and I look at my hand. She was right. No ring. I frantically search in between the sheets and under the bed. Still no ring. My heart that had been racing, stops suddenly. I feel numb and darkness surrounds me once again.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I wake up again, in the middle of the night. And, my heart thumps loudly when I see a silhouette near the door. The shadow moved closer and I realized who it was. It wasn't Sherlock. It was Molly. Molly Hooper. How irrelevant.

"John" she begins. Her face is covered with tears. Sherlock's loss hit her too, then.

"Spare me the lecture, Molly. I most certainly did not hallucinate the event!" I yell. My anger at Sherlock for making me doubt what happened was killing me.

"John" she starts in a soothing voice. I completely detest the voice. It was the same tone in which Ella talked to me. I don't reply. Frankly, I was too weak after I yelled at her.

"John, Sherlock…"her voice broke, tears streaming her face once again. I feel guilty for shouting at her. She was going through the same thing. I realize Molly and I were in the same boat. Only difference was that was there for me while there was no one for her. I feel very sorry for her.

"Molly" I said in a low voice, "I know you loved Sherlock too. I'm sorry. But, I'm telling you, he's alive"

"John, I'm so sorry. I really am. I know you..we are going through a lot of things which we do not understand" she took a deep breath and continued,

"But Sherlock is really dead. I recognized him and he's dead, John. No matter how much I hoped, reality hit me John. Sherlock is dead. The hospital has issued a death certificate."

I don't know what to say. Molly began crying again but I hardly pay attention to her. My world was collapsing. I was on the brink of insanity. I feel many things, so many things that I don't know what I feel anymore. Sherlock was here yesterday. I was surer of the fact than my own name. I don't understand. Forget understand, I didn't even know what was happening to me. But, then, something hits me.

"Molly" I say. She turns, her eyes fearful. "It has all been done before. Remember how Adler faked her death?" I know I'm grasping at straw but I don't care. The other alternative cannot be true.

"John" she says and her voice breaks down. She tries talking but can't. She steadies herself and replies,

"Adler's head was bashed up. Sher..his head was fine. There wasn't a problem identifying him" she said.

I hit a dead-end. No other possibility occurs to me. A fear that Molly was right starts creeping in.

"No. No. No. No no no. Please Molly, tell me he's alive. Please tell me he'll be back after three years. Please, Molly. Please, I'm begging you" I plead with her with tears in my eyes.

Her face completely morphs.

"I can't, John" she says, and runs out of my room. However, I could still hear her sobbing outside my room. It all felt unimportant. Was I really mad? Was yesterday a hallucination? Was it my mind's way of recreating my hopes, recreating my dreams, recreating all that could have been? For the first time, I'm glad they've tied me down.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was the day of my discharge. Also, the day of Sherlock's….funeral. I did not want to go. Going would mean that Sherlock was dead. That it was over. That what happened that night was a hallucination. Some small part of me wanted to kill myself, but a bigger part wanted me to wait. Wait for three more years. Three years after which I could kill myself. I smile, for the first time in days. In three years, either he was going to join me or I was going to join him. I attend the funeral in this maniac mindset.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

_I'm here because….._

_What happened, John?_

_Sherl…._

_You need to get it out_

_My best friend..Sherlock Holmes….is dead._

The truth of the statement hits me. Hits me hard, very, very hard. I realize that Sherlock is dead. What happened afterwards was indeed a hallucination. I would never see Sherlock again. We would never run in the streets of London. There would be no more entries on my blog. There would be no more deductions. No more Mycroft. No more dead bodies. No more shooting the walls. No more experiments. No heads in the fridge. No more life.

I decide to kill myself, for real this time. My gun was at 221 B. I decide I would do it there. It would be more symbolic. I leave Ella, telling her I would visit Sherlock's grave and say the things I didn't say. She smiles, believing me.

I walked out the door and something made me stop right dead in my tracks. Even in the drenching rain, I spotted a big graffitied "3" on the wall opposite to Ella's office. My eyes bulge out, my hand shivers and I fall. I don't know what's real or not anymore.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I wake up, this time in a new apartment, and there's Mycroft sitting opposite to me.

"John" he says.

Mycroft was the last person I wanted to see. Especially when he could deduce that I wanted to kill myself. Well if he noticed it, he didn't show it.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" I ask roughly. Mycroft was the reason of Sherlock's death. I hadn't forgotten that. I contemplate hitting him but I was bound. Again.

"John, I have only one piece of advice. Wait. Don't kill yourself now. You hallucinated that Sherlock asked you to wait. Do that. Don't kill yourself now. You are not rational enough to decide right now"

I knew that with Mycroft around, there would be no way to do what I wanted. I nod, my plan still in my head. In three years, I would join Sherlock, no matter what Mycroft did. The time-limit was to set matters straight with my sister and my parents. I wouldn't do the same thing Sherlock did to me. I nod, and Mycroft seems satisfied. He leaves.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

_You told me once. That you weren't a hero. There were times when I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were. The best man…the most human human being I've ever known and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. So…there. I said it. I was so alone, and I owe you so much._

Thank you, Sherlock. This is my way of thanking you.

_But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. be. Dead._

Or I will be. Soon.

_Would you just do that to me? Just stop it. Stop this._

Please stop this madness, Sherlock. I don't even know what to believe in right now.


	3. Chapter 3

I decided to live in the flat Mycroft chose for me. There was no way I could live in 221 B after what happened. Sherlock was 221 B. I could never live there knowing that I wouldn't see Sherlock shooting the walls anymore. Or, that I would wake up at inane hours for his cases. His violin…he played beautifully when he wanted to. There would be no waking up or sleeping listening to him. I could not live there, where I'm reminded of the past I could never have again. It was too cruel and I did not want to do that to myself.

I made a fake-prescription to buy hypnotic drugs that would numb my mind. There was no way I could live through even a single day feeling like this. I started drinking too (Not as much as Harry though). To me, everyday was numb. Dull. Nothing happened to me anymore. Wake up. Go to the hospital. Do required work. No social interaction of any kind. Come home. Drink a bit. Sleep. Repeat. I live like a robot. Greg tried to talking me into going to pubs but honestly, I had no patience for that sort of thing. How boring it all seems now. Molly visits at least twice a week, checking as to how I felt. I would say I'm fine, she would act like she believed me. It felt nice, however, to know that she truly cared for me. I must do something for her before these three years end. Mrs. Hudson would call once a week. I never had the courage to take the call. That is my life now, the life of a robot. The life of the man I was before I met Sherlock. A life with no purpose. A life without meaning. Mere existence. Plowing my way through time, waiting for three more years.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Today was my birthday. But honestly, who cares? People sent me cards and wishes but I just ignored them. There could be no happy in my birthday. The only gift I wanted was an essay on "Suppressed Hate Upon Close Proximity" entirely based on my friends. I wanted someone to tell me how ridiculous it was to celebrate the day of birth. How all my friends hated me. I wanted Sherlock. Wait, there's the doorbell. It's Greg. I let him in, knowing fully that he would break my door otherwise.

_Well, it's good to see you Greg._

I smile and pretend. I did not want people suffering because of me. I knew, firsthand how it felt.

_So, how you've been?_

Wishing I was already dead. Drowning my sorrows with pills and alcohol. How about you?

_Yeah. Much better. So, what's in the…?_

_Oh yeah, that's some stuff from my office, stuff of Sherlock's actually. Probably should've thrown it out but if…_

Greg starts stuttering. I understand that he is scared as to what my reaction would be. I'm not sad actually. This was a chance to know more about Sherlock. I wouldn't have missed it for the worlds.

_No, fine, yeah._

He seems reassured by my reaction.

_There's something in here, wasn't sure if I should have kept it in. You remember the video message he made for your birthday? I, uh, practically threatened him._

I could see that Greg was trying to lighten the mood. I smile, knowing that I never mattered to Sherlock anyway.

_This is the uncut version. It's quite funny._

He smiles, clearly relieved as to how I was taking it. I smile back, but there are a thousand emotions in the back of my head. I would see Sherlock again. I would hear him talk again. It was the best gift I could have gotten this birthday. For the first time in months, I feel a little alive again.

_Maybe, I shouldn't have brought it._

Greg must have seen the internal battle going on inside of me. I try reassuring him.

_No, it's okay. I probably won't even watch it._

Who was I kidding? I was dying to watch it.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

My hand reaches to my DVD player but I stop. I realize I would see Sherlock again. But, I would also have to deal with the fact that he isn't here anymore. Watching Sherlock talk again would take me back down to a trip in the memory lane. I would be forced to deal with the fact that life in the present is nothing compared to the life of the past. Sherlock's loss would hit me again. Was I ready to deal with that?

Unsure, I open a bottle of scotch and quench my fears. Dealing with all of it would be worth it only if I could see Sherlock again. Even if it's on a television screen. I put the DVD in and press play.

_What do I…What do you want me to do at the end? Should I smile and wink? I do that sometimes, I have no idea why. People seem to like it._

For the first time after many months, my heart beats fast. Sherlock's voice and Sherlock himself….how I missed him. I wonder idly if that was why he winked and smiled when we first met. But, the majority of mind is only thinking one thing: Sherlock.

_Of course I'm going to miss the dinner. There will be people! How could John be having a dinner party? All his friends hate him._

I smile. I feel a little bit like Sherlock's John, pissed at his inappropriate deductions. I feel a little angry too, at him for leaving me in this state

_What was my excuse again?_

_You had a thing._

_Yes, a thing. A thing._

_You might want to elaborate._

_No, no, no. Only lies have details_

I shake my head. I remember the night of my hallucination. Everything was so clear, so detailed. I feel pissed at Sherlock for saying it was a lie. Especially when he was right.

_Just give me a minute to figure out what I'm gonna do_

_I could tell you what to do. Stop being dead._

_Ok._

The entire world stops. My heart stops. Time stops. I'm feeling millions of things.

_Hello John. I'm sorry I'm not there at the moment, I'm very busy. However, many happy returns._

Sherlock, you bastard. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't understand as to what I should feel. Sherlock was dead, and he was still wishing me a happy birthday and apologizing for not being here. Even after being dead, he still has managed to mess up the world I created. I feel very angry, frustrated that how he could control me. How, even after his death, he still managed to have a hold on me.

_And, don't worry. I'll be back with you very soon._

No, Sherlock, I'll be back with you very soon.

Will I? Doubts start creeping in. For the first time, I feel incredibly angry at myself. Angry for letting him control me. Why should I mope around for a man who never truly cared about me? Who may/may not have loved me? It was high time that I moved on. Maybe I'll ask that nurse out.


	4. Chapter 4

The anger subsided after a few days. But, the realization didn't. I had to move on. I couldn't let one dead man destroy my whole world. I wouldn't. I decided I'll mope around for a week every year. That week, I would lose all contact with the world, just stare dejectedly at the wall and get completely wasted. The other days, however, I decided I'll be the John I was when I was with Sherlock. Atleast, try to be that John.

Well, the date went terribly. Terribly didn't even cover it. We met for coffee before work. I wasn't used to talking these days and she didn't talk either. I guess she was too scared to talk to me, afraid she'll let the wrong thing spill out. We drank coffee in silence. Summoning the courage to talk, I ask:

"So, what are your hobbies?" My voice is croaky from lack of use.

"Um...I like to read fiction. And telly. A lot of telly."

How boring.

"What?"

I didn't realize I said that out loud. Not surprising really. Therapy has completely ruined me.

"I'm sorry. I really am." I apologize, not convincingly.

"I'm sorry I have a boring life. I can't be…." She starts irritated, but stops, and her eyes widen.

My face is completely devoid of emotion. I can't talk. I wonder if I should pretend that I didn't hear her.

"You still love him" She says, and dramatically exits.

Great. Two sentences and she already hated him. That was why I was glad when I finally met Mary.

Mary had joined as a replacement nurse for my existing nurse. She surprised me by asking me out. One great thing about Mary was that she understood. She understood that I loved Sherlock (Of course, she thought I loved him platonically). She understood that she will never be my entire world. She was okay with being only a part of my world. She had traumas of her own, she once said. She understood that she was never supposed to talk about Sherlock and I understood that I shouldn't ask about her past. She observed spectacularly. She knew what things would set me off. She understood my one week off a year rule. Meeting Mary has been one of the best things that could have ever happened to me. She taught me a new philosophy:

_We all have a past, John. Ghosts. They are the shadows that define our every sunny day. It's up to us to decide to either let the ghosts or the Sun to take over._

Being with Mary has taught me to hope that I could be happy again. Maybe not as much as with Sherlock, but atleast a little happiness was enough for me right now. I guess I must have used up my lifetime happiness quota with Sherlock.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

The second anniversary of the Fall was approaching. I was reminded of my promise that I would wait in many subtle ways. For example, there was one time I got someone else's newspaper. And the headline? "Not dead" (Well, the story turned out to be about some Egyptian tombs or something). Another time, one of my patients had a breakdown in my office saying how a guy promised that he would wait for her but never did. It felt like the Universe liked to watch me suffer with indecision. And the worst was when I went to buy Mary a ring. I decided I would propose to her on the day of the Fall so that I would fulfill my promise. I finally decided upon one (Looking at the rings made me very depressed so I went with the one which had diamonds and could be bought with my meager salary) I paid the bill, put the ring in my pocket and was walking towards the exit. There, (I could have sworn they weren't there before) in a flashing array of lights, were a set of rings. Upon closer inspection, all of them turned out to be the same ring. The ring I hallucinated. Needless to say, I blacked out.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

The day of the Fall. My entire body is tingling with anticipation. This was it. Today would set the entire course of my life. I pace back and forth, not knowing what to do till the evening. I decide to meet .

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

 _Just get me back to London. I need to know the place again. Breathe it in._   _Feel every quiver of its beating heart._

I look at Sherlock. Who did he think he was kidding? Sherlock thought he could deceive me? Sherlock wasn't talking about London. He was talking about a very specific John Watson. I don't say a word. Sherlock himself suggested the removal of the ring, but he seemed confident that John would still love him.

_What about John Watson?_

He asks, casually, deceiving nobody. I could see emotion filling his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

_John?_

I bargain for more time

_Hm, yes. Have you seen him?_

_Oh yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips_

I had no intention of letting Sherlock know what was John was about to do. I will let him make his own deductions.

_I've kept a weather eye on him, of course. We haven't been in touch at all to…prepare him._

I subtly warn Sherlock. He does not get it.

_I think I'll surprise John. He'll be delighted._

_You think so?_

_Mm. Pop into Baker Street, who knows, jump out of a cake_

_Baker Street? He isn't there anymore._

For the first time, Sherlock's face turns confused.

_Why would he be? It's been two years. He's got on with his life_

I see Sherlock, and he's scared.

_What life? I've been away_

Ah. Denial.

_Where's he going to be tonight?_

He wants data. He realizes he doesn't know what John was up to lately.

_How would I know?_

_You always know._

_He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001_

I add trivia, to not let him know that John was going to propose to Mary. Sherlock was good at deducing what people don't say.

_I think maybe I'll just drop by._

_You know, it is just possible you won't be welcome_

My warning isn't subtle anymore.

_No, it isn't_

Still in denial. Today was going to be either a night of euphoric celebration or a danger night. And all the evidence points to the latter. Tonight was going to be a very sad night. A night of two broken, misunderstood hearts. Was reconciliation possible?


	5. Chapter 5

I go to 221 B. I thought I would black out or plunge into a hole of depression again. But surprisingly, I felt nothing. I realized 221 B was just another flat if there was no Sherlock in it. Mrs. Hudson is surprised to see me, but doesn't say anything.

From the way she is banging the plates and the cups, it was obvious that she was very angry at me. And, I don't blame her.

_Oh no, you don't take it do you?_

_No._

_You forget a little thing like that._

_Yes._

I knew what Mrs. Hudson was referring to.

_You forget lots of little things, it seems_

_Uh-huh_

I play dumb. I had no intention of walking down the memory lane.

_Look_

I decide that Mrs. Hudson deserved an apology. She had been a rock and I never did thank her for the things she did for me. However, she cuts me off.

_I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it. But, one phone call John! Just one phone call would have done_

_I know_

I felt guilty. Very guilty.

_After all we've went through_

_I am sorry._

_I know how difficult it was for you, after…after_

_I let it slide, . I let it all slide._

The words reverberate around my head. It was the first time I acknowledged verbally that I was permanently moving on from Sherlock. For the first time, I realize the weight of the ring in my pocket.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I decided that moving on from Sherlock meant taking that walk down memory lane. I summon up my courage to go into our flat.

I stop at the doorway, fighting the rush of memories that were trying to overpower me. It was too much.

_So, why now? What changed your mind?_

Her words help me realize what I had come here for. That I needed to move on from Sherlock. Mary deserved that.

_Well, I've got some news._

_I'm moving on._

Moving on from Sherlock. The most incredible man I knew.

_You're emigrating_

The thought that I met someone does not even cross Mrs. Hudson.

_Er, no. I've…met someone_

_Oh, how lovely!_

She seemed genuinely pleased that I met someone.

_So soon, after Sherlock?_

_Hmm, well, yes._

Mrs. Hudson is confused, though she is trying her best not to show it.

_What's his name?_

_It's a woman._

I wasn't gay. Sherlock was just special, that's all. Even Irene fell for Sherlock, even though she was a lesbian.

_A woman?_

_Yes, of course it's a woman._

_You really have moved on, haven't you?_

It was her way of subtly reminding me of my hallucination. And, it was my time to reply.

_Mrs. Hudson, how many times? Sherlock wasn't my boyfriend!_

The sadness of the truth hits me.

_Live and let live, that's my motto_

_I'm not gay!_

_SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHShSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH_

I arrive at Marylebone Road an hour before I was supposed to meet Mary. I was that nervous. All my nerves were tingling with anticipation. Sadly, it was not due to the fact that I was proposing. No matter how hard I try to convince myself, I knew the state of my anticipation was due to the end of two years. End of waiting. It was Sherlock's time to keep up his promise. Ninety nine percent of me was telling me (in a voice very much like Sherlock's) that I was stupid. But, there was that one percent that was feeling justified in keeping my end of the promise, no matter how ludicrous. I sat, contemplating as to how to propose. Clever as she was, she must have already figured out that I was going to propose to her.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

John Hamish Watson. It was all for him. All the things I had done the past two years. They were to ensure he was safe. I was an idiot to let my emotions to take over me at the wrong moment. Months of planning could have been ruined. Proposing to John was one of the best moments of my life, but it was the wrong time. I and Mycroft spent months to plan the perfect fake suicide. The entire thing was staged so that John would believe that I was dead. And, I, the idiot I was, went back to John the same night. Well, I had to. His entry on Reichenbach Fall made me forget everything.

It broke my heart to see John on the hospital bed. He really cared about me. I understood then how hard it had been for John to see my "dead" body. I had to show him that I wasn't dead. That impulse had completely ruined John. I only hope that he would forgive me for playing with his mind.

Mycroft knew something. There were always pointers. Three, in case of Mycroft. Thirteen in case of an ordinary person. Thirty for John. I hated not knowing. Well, I would think about it later. Right now, I had bigger things at hand.

I go to Marylebone Road twenty minutes before whatever John was going to do there. I make my way into the restaurant. My mind was telling me that John made a reservation knowing that I would be back.

The man takes my coat. Baby clothes catalogue visible in the inner coat, both for a girl and a boy. Expectant father. His phone rings, special alert noise.

_Your wife just texted you, possibly her contractions have started._

He leaves. It is always nice, knowing your deductions were right.

I see him. John. Alone at the table. He was early. For one moment, my façade of calm disappears. I am scared, very scared. For the first time, I wonder:

"What if he doesn't?"

I knew I didn't deserve John. I only hoped he would love me still the same.

This moment vanishes soon. Mycroft always told me that I lived in a state of denial. Well, why worry about things that haven't happened yet? I decide to have some fun with John. I disguise myself as a French waiter. My disguises always amused John. Here I come John, keeping my end of the promise.

_Can I help you with anything, sire?_

I control myself from talking to John. It had been two years since I was this close. Part of me hoped John would see me and thus see through my disguise. But no, he is too busy looking at the menu. Food. Seriously, John?

_Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne. A good one._

I gasp inwardly. I see a ring box in his coat. John was going to propose to me! He is ordering the champagne to celebrate! My heart is racing and I do everything I can to stop revealing myself to him. I am giddy with joy.

_These are all excellent vintages, sir._

_It's not really my area, what do you suggest?_

It was time to show John who I was.

_This last one on the list, it's a favorite of mine. It is in fact, you might say, like a face from the past._

I take my glasses off in a flourish.

_Great, I'll have that one please._

JOHN! LOOK AT ME!

_It is familiar, but with the quality of surprise_

My last attempt.

_Well, surprise me._

I'm pissed.

_I am certainly endeavoring to, sir._

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

I go out and buy a bottle of champagne. I take my time, planning to be exactly on the time his reservation was made. I can't not be happy. The love of my life was going to propose to me. It is all fine.

I go in. There's a woman sitting beside John. Must be a friend, chance meeting at the restaurant. I go there with my bottle of champagne.

_Sir, you will find this vintage exceptionally to your liking. It has all the qualities of the old with the color of the new._

_No, sorry, not now, please_

_Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring at the face of an old friend_

_No, look, seriously could you just…._

_Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters._

John gets it.

_Well, short version: Not dead_


	6. Chapter 6

_Well, short version: Not dead_

Nothing. I feel nothing. Or maybe, I am feeling so many things at once that I don't know what I am feeling. Here I was, finally, FINALLY moving on, ready to propose to a woman I loved and he HAD to ruin it for me. Lately, the Universe's past-time has been ruining my life and my mind.

I see red. I go absolutely mad. All those emotions that I had pent up suddenly broke loose. Love, grief, hate, regret, surprise, gratitude – every emotion. I wonder for a second if I was hallucinating again – if my brain conjured Sherlock up in the hope that I won't be moving on. As a sign that I still loved him. But, no, Mary's looking at him as well.

_Bit mean springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny. Okay, it's not a great defense._

I know he's saying something and my mind barely registers what he's saying but I am somewhere else. A thousand voices – each voicing a different thought, a different emotion. I felt conflicted – as if there were multiple parts of me, each having their own personality and each part wanting to me to either kiss him or punch him. Is this what insanity felt like?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

I punched him.

Multiple times.

The first time was for playing with my mind.

The second time was for the fact that he trusted Molly Hooper more than me

The third time was for him believing that things could go back to normal. And, his definition of normal did not involve the proposal in the hospital. Therein lies the irony. I got what I wanted the most – Sherlock not dead, but in return, I had to give him up. I was cursed to love a man who would never love me back. In retrospect though, it was completely my fault. He warned me, in the very beginning,

_I consider myself married to my work_

I was a fool.

What was his reason? Ah yes, it was very "funny". Funny? FUNNY? Was that what I meant to him? Someone to play a prank on? For the first time, I am broken. I broke when Sherlock fell off the roof but this was worse. A million times worse. He never really did care, did he? All that mattered to him was the game.

Such was the state of my mind when I was lying on the bed next to Mary. I look at her, sleeping peacefully. Her tranquil face soothed me and I found myself relaxing slowly and looking into the matter rationally.

Sherlock is alive. He does not love me back the way I do. I have a woman in my life who was willing to take me despite my flaws, despite knowing that she would be always second in my world. Life offered me two options here: Chase Sherlock or have Mary. I was tired of chasing Sherlock. There was only one option left.

_A bird in hand is worth two in the bush_

I slowly droop off next to the woman I vow to make my wife.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

_I'll talk him around_

_You will?_

_Oh yeah_

For the first time this evening, I look at her. Really look. I had been obsessed with very minute details about John that I didn't really observe her. Mycroft's voice hits me.

_Expensive dress, not so rich woman_

Probably her birthday

_Hardly. She was alone at the restaurant_

Probably came for the food

_She'll talk him around_

John has found a shoulder to cry on. A good…..friend?

_They are going home in the same cab_

They live near each other….do they?

_Baker Street? He isn't there anymore. He's got on with his life._

Got on with his life? Got on? Got on…..oh! How blind, how foolish, how stupid I had been. I fall down and lay crumpled on the pavement with my head in my hands. How incredibly idiotic of me! I should have been able to deduce this right at the restaurant.

This feeling however, soon left, only to be replaced by sadness. Grief overshadowed me and even Redbeard could not console me this time.

_Players end up getting played_

Was this a price I had to pay for playing with John's mind?

_Take the high road_

It's the least John deserved after all I put him through. He loved her? I will silently accept it. I will not make him choose after he has already chosen. I wouldn't risk his friendship for anything in the world.

The best moments of my life were to remain a hallucination to him

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was midnight when Mrs. Hudson woke up. She could hear Sherlock's violin, his music pouring from all corners of the room. She crept upstairs and peeped through the door to hear him better.

Sherlock was facing the door, but he could not see Mrs. Hudson for his eyes were closed. He played incessantly, hands moving rhythmically, manipulating the instrument. The music was slow at first – it talked of grief, of pain and suffering, of unrequited love. It spoke of the words that were left unspoken. This went on for an hour, Sherlock constantly slowing down each successive turn. It made Mrs. Hudson want to cry and she could see tears on Sherlock's face. The slow sad music slowly turned to a neutral tone – a slow dreary sound, a sound of acceptance. Music that talked about letting go, about giving up. His hands moved in a way she had never seen before – slow and lacking energy. His face looked defeated. He looked…broken. It slowly turned fast, it was slowly becoming a mad screeching sound, his hands moving in the speed of light. The music was talking about his frenzy, his madness crept out. Sherlock's looked mad. The noise was horrible but Sherlock didn't stop. Sherlock's hands moved and moved, their speed getting only faster.

_Tang_

A string of his violin broke and Mrs. Hudson could see that Sherlock's finger got cut. Blood was seeping out and was dripping on his bow. Mrs. Hudson wanted to stop him at once, but something told her not to. Sherlock needed this in order to get over his problems. As long he does not cause himself a permanent injury, it was fine. Sherlock did not stop, however. He continued to play, if possible, even faster.

_Tang_

The second string also broke. His hand was filled with blood. The carpet was also slowly turning red. Sherlock seemed to not even realize that his hand was injured.

Mrs. Hudson left, with tears in her eyes, unable to see her son grieving like that.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

In the morning, Mrs. Hudson found a normal Sherlock playing Operation with his brother. He was the Sherlock he always was. Nothing about him talked of his night before, except for the bandages on his hand.

Well, those and three pieces of bloodied wood in the trash which was what remained of Sherlock's violin.


	7. Chapter 7

Things were normal.

Or at least, they appeared to be normal.

Sherlock seemed to be completely okay with the fact that John was engaged to Mary and intended to marry her

John seemed to have finally accepted that the night of the fall was a hallucination.

Sherlock wasn't jealous of Mary at all. Not one bit.

John was completely on board with the idea that Mary and Sherlock are good friends.

Who were they kidding?

"So, the big question. The best man"

"The best man?"

"What do you think?" John asks, casually. Internally, his heart was racing to see what Sherlock would say.

"Billy Kincaid"

"For my wedding. For me. I need a best man"

Best man? Sherlock couldn't care less. John could pick anyone on the streets for all he cared

"Gavin Lestrade? He's a man and good at it"

"It's Greg, and he is not my best friend."

"Oh I see how it is. Mike Stamford."

"No, Mike's great. But, he is not my best friend"

"Look, Sherlock. This is the most important day of my life and I want to be up there with two people whom I love and care about the most."

"Yes"

"Mary Morstan"

"Yes"

"…and you"

The whole world turns upside down. This is what he was. Best friend. Was John that cruel to make him his best man? Surely the agony because of John marrying her was not enough? Was Sherlock to be punished by actually having to arrange a marriage he didn't want to happen? Sherlock pauses, trying desperately to not let his expression show. He forced his face to remain neutral while trying to calm the tumult of emotions threatening to tear up the fragile wall he had created. He had spent years practicing to control his emotions. He had succeeded.

There was a pause. A pause in which both looked at each other in the eyes, hoping that the other would break the silence. Every moment felt important, every breath heavy. This was the case with all important moments. They appeared trivial to outsiders.

"So, I am your best friend?" Sherlock asks, clinging onto the slightest hope that John would say "something more"

"Of course, you are." John said.

They both knew that a shift in the relationship had occurred, Both of the acknowledged it and silently regretted it.

"You'll have to write a speech"

"Yes" a whisper, a carefully controlled whisper. A neutral tone.

John nods. He smiles strangely at Sherlock and leaves.

Sherlock sighs internally. He had handled that quite well. He goes into the hall, planning to go to his mind palace and lock all the feelings again.

It was a pity Sherlock did not see out of the window. Or else, he would have seen John furiously kicking some dustbins.

"You know it won't change anything. Me and Mary, getting married?"

Anything? It changes everything, John. EVERYTHING.

Sherlock was aware that Mary and John knew that he was scared. They just did not know why.

"We'll still be doing this" John said, trying to gauge a reaction from Sherlock.

"Oh good"

"If you were worried"

"I wasn't worried"

Of course he wasn't. Why would Married-To-My-Work Sherlock Holmes even care? John needed Sherlock for his adrenaline fix. Sherlock didn't need him.

"The thing about Mary…she has changed everything" John began, wanting to tell Sherlock, to explain why he was marrying Mary.

However, Sherlock got up. It was enough that he had to be best man. He did not have to listen to the love of his life talking about his fiancée.

"Changed everything"

Changed me. Taught .

"But, for the record, there are two people who have done that" John continued. He had the sudden urge to tell Sherlock what he meant to him.

"And the other…" he looks at Sherlock's empty seat.

This was always the case with Sherlock. Sherlock always left him alone when John needed him the most. Something clicks in John's mind. It felt like a sign. Like marrying Mary was the right thing to do.

Tea was ready. Mrs. Hudson slowly poured it into a cup. She mixed some of her "herbal soothers" in them. Sherlock would need them today. She takes the tray and frowns. She was unsure as to how Sherlock was feeling right now. She listens to the waltz music coming from Sherlock's flat.

Dancing. Dancing. Sherlock was dancing. It was a little sad actually, for he was dancing with an imaginary partner. An imaginary partner who seemed to be exactly of John's height.

"Your mother had a lot to answer for" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file" he answered. His face was a mask of complete indifference. But, Mrs. Hudson knew it was a mask.

"So, it's the big day then"

"What big day?" he asks.

Gotcha. Overdoing the indifference, Sherlock.

"The wedding!"

Sherlock blabs, not wanting to lose the mask he had so carefully placed. It had to stay on for the entire day.

"My best friend Margaret….." Mrs. Hudson goes on, wanting to see how he would react.

Sherlock looks at the tea, trying to change the subject

"Aren't there usually biscsuits?"

"Oh, it's the end of an era!" Mrs. Hudson went on, observing carefully.

"Biscuits!"

Mrs. Hudson leaves, satisfied. Sherlock was indeed not so calm as he appeared. She sighed. Only if Sherlock had had the guts to tell John he loved him. It was too late now.

Sherlock looks at her leaving.

_It changes people, marriage._

_It's the end of an era_

_Marriage_

_Dr. and Mrs. Watson_

Sherlock's head reels with phrases. No, this wouldn't do. The mask he had placed vanishes. He's vulnerable. He looks at John's seat. This was the sacrifice he had to make for the happiness of the man he loved.

"Right then. Into battle"

"John and Mary. Domestic bliss" Mycroft's words go through like a knife.

"No, no, no. I prefer to think of it as a new chapter" Sherlock said, trying his best to sound indifferent. Optimistic, even. Mycroft did not need to know what Sherlock was going through right now.

Mycroft pauses, knowingly. Deceiving Mycroft was not a good idea to start with.

"What?"

Sherlock's heart beats fast. Did Mycroft know?

"Nothing"

"I know that silence"

The silence was Mycroft's way of looking smug. It was equivalent to Mycroft waving his arms and yelling "I know something you don't"

"Well, I'd better let you get back to it. You have a big speech or something, don't you?"

"What?"

"Cakes. Karaoke. Mingling"

"Mycroft!"

"This is what people do, Sherlock. They get married. I warned you. Don't get involved."

Indeed he had.

"Involved? I am not involved"

"No"

Mycroft shakes his head internally. Did Sherlock really think Mycroft didn't know?

"John asked me to be his best man, how could I say no?"

"Absolutely"

"I am not involved"

"I believe you, really I do"

"Have a lovely day and do give the happy couple my best"

Mycroft pauses. This was it. Sherlock's reply would tell him everything he needed to know about this love triangle.

"I will"

Interesting. Sherlock has given up. Seems like he did not want to risk losing his only friend.

"Oh, by the way, Sherlock, do you remember Redbeard?"

Emotions always fade. No one can love you all the time. Love fades. People forget. They move on.

"I am not a child anymore Mycroft"

"No, of course, you are not. Do enjoy not getting involved Sherlock"

_Clinking of glass_

"Pray silence for the best man"

This was it. The speech. Finally accepting his place in John's new life.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Family and friends. And….others"

He can't do it. He just can't do it. Sherlock would have dearly liked to run away from the wedding and just cry until he cant anymore. But, no, he had to be strong. John's happiness mattered to him the most.

"John. My friend, John Watson"

Friend. Friend. How Sherlock hated the word.

"…I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could have the misfortune to meet…" Sherlock went on.

John wasn't listening. Sherlock had used this exact sentence in his hallucination. He grips the glass in his hand tightly. His rational part calms him. Maybe Sherlock used that sentence in real life before and his unconscious memory stored it. That must be it. He relaxes.

"If any of you should require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder. But, it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me, I should know he's saved mine so many times and in so many ways"

John tears up a little. This was the first time Sherlock had said that he needed John. Perhaps…perhaps he loved him? A little atleast? NO. WATSON. It's too late now.

"This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures. Of murder, mystery and mayhem"

_It's been one hell of a ride John, of mystery, murder and mayhem. And I look forward to doing that after the next three years. So, John, would you do the honor of marrying me?_

No. No no no no. I was over Sherlock. Universe, listen to me. I am married now. I am over Sherlock. I loved Mary.

"But, now there's a new chapter…..to Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Watson"

Yes, a new chapter. It was over. There was nothing left to fight for, Sherlock realized.

_Don't lose it_

Mycroft's voice guides him. That was how he survived the evening

"There's a proper to die, isn't there?"

"Of course there is"

"And one should embrace it when it comes. Like a solider"

"Of course one should. But not at John's wedding! We wouldn't do that, would we? You and me? We would never do that to John Watson"

The words reverberate around his head for a second.

"The sign of three"

John's happiness was worth it. His entire face lit up. Sherlock smiled a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. John's happiness was worth it.

"Dance, both of you"

He left the waltz composition.

To Dr. and Mrs. Watson.

It was a new beginning for them and an ending for him.

He looked at Janine. She seemed happy, she was talking to that geek. Everyone had somebody. Except him. At the end, he was always alone. People always left

Sherlock could not do it anymore. He left, pulling on his cloak.

It was time to become Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective.


End file.
